Honor Thy Father
by MizJoely
Summary: An old story I dug up featuring Picard, both Crushers and Katherine Pulaski. Beverly faces a moral crisis as Wesley faces a medical one.
1. Present Tense

Beverly Crusher was in her private quarters when the message came through for her. It was from Earth, from Starfleet Academy. But the face that appeared on the screen surprised her; it was not her son Wesley, as she'd expected. "Katherine!" she exclaimed. "How nice to see you."

Katherine Pulaski's expression was not friendly, nor was it unfriendly; Crusher had a difficult time interpreting it. "Beverly, I'm afraid this isn't a social call," the other doctor began. "I have some bad news..."

_No!_ Crusher screamed in her mind. Not _two such messages in less than six months! It isn't fair! _But while her mind was panicking, her voice remained steady. "What's wrong?" she asked. "It's Wes, isn't it."

Pulaski nodded grimly, although her expression remained carefully neutral. That was it, Crusher suddenly, irrelevantly, realized. The other doctor looked totally neutral. "He's in the Academy Sickbay, under observation. He's in stable condition, and I really have no reason to keep him there now," Pulaski continued reassuringly. "We're just running a few tests." A pause. "I'd really rather discuss this with you in person; I think it's imperative that you return to Earth as quickly as possible."

Return to Earth? Crusher brushed that aside, concentrating instead on the Starfleet Academy CMO's other words. "Can't you at least tell me what's wrong?" she demanded. "Has there been another accident?" She could feel her heart skipping in her chest.

"Nothing like that," Pulaski hastened to assure her. "Wesley collapsed in his Xenobotany class yesterday and was taken to Sickbay. He appears to be fine today, but as I said, we're still running a few tests to determine the cause of the collapse. I'd like to tell you it's due to stress," she added, "but somehow I don't think it's that simple. How soon can you arrive?"

Crusher frowned distractedly. "I'm not really sure, I have to speak to Captain Picard, make my arrangements-can I contact you in a bit with my ETA?"

Dr. Pulaski nodded understandingly. "Certainly. Pulaski out." Her image vanished abruptly from the screen as Crusher headed for the door to her quarters. Jean-Luc was off-duty, she knew; a check with the computer confirmed that he was in his quarters. It was a good thing they were near Starbase 11; she could arrange transport back to Earth with no problem. Keeping her mind focused on the travel arrangements she would have to make, Crusher rushed out of her quarters and down the hall.

Wesley Crusher was bored. Bored and frustrated. He tried arguing with Dr. Pulaski one more time. "Look," he said in his most reasonable tone, "you've already told me I'm all right. Why can't I go back to my classes?"

"In the first place, I did _not_ say you were 'all right'," she corrected him. "I merely said you _appeared_ to be in good shape. For now," she added sharply as he opened his mouth to protest once again. "Until we finish the testing and your mother arrives-"

"Mom's coming here? Why?" Wesley interrupted angrily. He sat up straighter on the diagnostic bed to glare at Dr. Pulaski. "It was probably stress, you said so yourself! Why get Mom involved?"

"That was before we ran some more tests; now, I'm not so certain it was only stress," the doctor replied in a level tone. "In spite of the fact that you are a prime candidate for stress-related illness due to...certain recent events in your life, you simply don't have the right temperament for it." Her voice softened. "Wesley Crusher is not a quitter; he's a fighter. I know that, even if you don't. You might push yourself too hard, but quite frankly, you're showing no other signs of stress-related illness. Besides," she concluded with a smile to soften the harshness of her words, "I am the doctor, and you are the patient. I have not decided that you are fit to return to your classes, and you will therefore remain here until I say otherwise. Is that understood?" She waited for his reluctant nod before rising from her seat beside his bed. "Good. Now behave, cooperate with the nurses, and I might get you out of here in a few days. Deal?

Wesley nodded once again, still reluctantly, then leaned back against the headboard. "But I don't have to like it," he mumbled as she turned to leave. The doctor paused on the threshold, glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow, then left without saying anything.

Wesley blew an exasperated sigh as the door finally shut behind Dr. Pulaski, then slammed a fist into the bed. It wasn't fair; he had already lost a year through his own stupidity, and now this collapse was holding him back even more. Although he could monitor his courses from Sickbay and keep up on his homework, it was impossible to take the labs and flight training he needed from this stupid bed.

Mom being called back to Earth was the last straw. There was no reason for her to come here, at least until the tests were completed. What if Dr. Pulaski was wrong, what if it _was_ just stress? She'd just told him it wasn't impossible. Then Mom would have left the _Enterprise_ and rushed to Earth for nothing. It was bad enough that she'd had to come last time-her and Captain Picard.

At least the captain wasn't coming this time. Wesley was still somewhat mad at him. Not as mad as he had been, but not completely over it. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he'd never be over it. He sighed again, sliding even lower on his bed, until the pillow was under his head instead of his back. He stared at the ceiling. Then again, he decided reluctantly, he couldn't blame the captain for the rest of his life. After all, that whole mess was really his own fault. He, Wesley Crusher, was accountable for his own actions. Not Captain Picard, not his mother, not his friends. Just Wesley Crusher. If nothing else, that entire incident-and, much as he hated to admit it, Captain Picard-taught him that much. It had just taken him a while to figure it all out.

Wesley glanced over at the monitor they'd set up by his bed. Time to hit the screen once again. If he kept up with everything else, he could still make up the labs during the summer hiatus.

Dr. Pulaski looked up in annoyance from the report she was laboring over. Someone was knocking on her door. "Who is it?" she demanded irritably.

The door opened, and her assistant stuck her head in timidly. "Sir, there's someone here to see you-"

"Who?" Pulaski demanded in some exasperation. Elisa Buckley had only been her assistant for two weeks, and the half-Andorian girl's whispery voice and timid personality were about to drive the older woman insane.

The door opened wider, and Elisa's pale blue face and wispy blonde hair were replaced by the familiar form of Dr. Beverly Crusher. "My shuttle arrived a little ahead of schedule; I know our appointment was for tomorrow morning," the tall redhead offered apologetically, "but I really felt that I should see you as soon as possible."

Pulaski rose to her feet and reached forward to shake Crusher's hand as her colleague continued into the room. With her other hand, she waved an irritable dismissal at Elisa, who was hovering anxiously by the door. A relieved expression flickered across the young woman's face, and she shut the door behind her with alacrity. "I'm pleased you were able to arrive early," Pulaski told Crusher. She indicated one of the seats in front of her desk, and the two sat down. "Beverly, I'll get right to the point. We ran a complete genetic scan on your son after his collapse, and we've discovered that Wesley has Ilar's Syndrome. Are you familiar with it?"

"Ilar's Syndrome is a genetic disorder that attacks the central nervous system," Crusher replied with an uneasy frown. "Initial symptoms include headaches, dizziness and occasional nausea. All of which are easily mistaken for symptoms of stress as well as other, lesser illness," she finished automatically, as if quoting from a textbook.

Pulaski nodded. "Which is why it wasn't diagnosed right away. It wasn't until the beginning of the second stage and Wesley's blackout that we began to suspect there was something more to it than simple stress. I'm sure you also know that it's passed exclusively from the male line and has a tendency to skip generations." She paused. "Beverly, there is no record of Jack Crusher's family having this disease, and he is the father of record; I looked. Would you care to explain that to me?"

Crusher stared down at her tightly clenched fists while her mind tried numbly to deal with the information Pulaski had just given her-and the question she had just asked. "Does it have any bearing on Wesley's treatment?" she finally asked in guarded tones, knowing while she asked what the answer would be.

Pulaski raised an eyebrow. "That all depends," she responded sarcastically, "on whether you want the boy to recover or not. In case you don't remember, this particular disease can only be cured by transfusion and cellular replacement, and the blood and cells must be from a genetically related donor from the side of the family that carries the disease. Preferably the father," she added pointedly.

The _Enterprise's_ CMO sighed deeply. What Pulaski was asking for was a secret buried so long in Beverly's heart that she'd almost forgotten it. A secret known by no one else, and one she'd vowed never to reveal. But her son's life was at stake; she would simply have to face the repercussions as they arose. "All right," she said numbly, "To confirm what you obviously already suspect, Jack Crusher was not Wesley's natural father." Pulaski nodded encouragement as Crusher swallowed painfully. Now came the hard part..."Look up Jean-Luc Picard's genetic files." She stopped there, gnawing her lower lip nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction from the other woman.

It wasn't long in coming. "Want to tell me about it?" was all Dr. Pulaski asked in a carefully neutral voice.

Crusher sighed again. It all seemed so long ago; the fight with Jack and the one night spent deliberately getting Jean-Luc-the only other man she'd felt something more than friendship for-drunk enough to proposition her-and herself drunk enough to accept. He hadn't even known the identity of the woman he'd spent those few, passionate hours with, a fact which she'd been grateful for at the time but regretted now. It would make all of this that much more of a shock.

She'd slipped away before he woke up, almost physically ill with her shame at betraying Jack and using Jean-Luc as part of that betrayal, no matter that she'd applied for a temporary separation, no matter that she was angry enough with him to force him into that agreement. Jean-Luc had never said anything to her, although she caught him looking at her once or twice with a puzzled expression in his eyes, as if he were trying to remember something...

She'd never told Jack about that night, even after they reconciled, too ashamed of herself and her behavior...especially once she discovered her pregnancy. Frantic nights spent worrying while both men were off in deep space on a mission did nothing for her health; when she collapsed during a final exam at medical school, the truth finally came out. Or at least, the part of the truth she was willing to give; that she was pregnant.

Once that news was out, she could no longer avoid telling Jack. He'd been ecstatic, and Crusher found herself compounding one lie-or at least, the withholding of the truth-with another. She knew darn well it was just as likely to be Picard's child as it was to be her husband's, had even contemplated aborting the pregnancy and not telling Jack about it. But her little stunt during finals precluded that possibility; either she had the abortion and told Jack exactly why, or she kept the baby and never told him of her fears.

As the story came tumbling out, Crusher felt something akin to relief at finally telling someone the truth. She refused to think beyond the moment, although in the back of her mind she knew that more people than Katherine Pulaski would have to be told-at least two more people.

"You never checked to confirm the identity of Wesley's father?" Pulaski asked disbelievingly when the other doctor finally fell silent.

Crusher shook her head, a shamed expression haunting her eyes. "I was afraid to," she confessed. "I didn't want anyone else to know that I had doubts, so I never had any tests performed. I couldn't perform them myself, not without letting someone know why I needed access to the equipment. Besides, I would have had to tell the two of them and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The odds were in my favor-"

Pulaski threw her hands up in an exasperated gesture. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this," she said sharply. "In this day and age-no wonder there wasn't a full genetic work-up on Wesley! I assumed it was merely lost in the shuffle, from moving around so much. Lord knows, it's happened before. But you never had one performed, did you?" she asked accusatively.

Crusher hunched miserably in her chair, feeling like an errant child being punished by the headmistress. "No," she responded in a small voice. She stood up and walked to the far wall in an abrupt, angry movement. "I'm not saying it was the smartest thing I've ever done, Doctor." Guilt and self-loathing colored her words. "I made a huge mistake, and now Wesley is paying for it. Don't you think I realize that?" She turned to look at the other woman, her eyes flashing as she hugged herself defensively. "Don't you think I realize that?" she repeated brokenly. She turned away again, but not before Dr. Pulaski saw the tears streaming down the other woman's cheeks. Crusher's shoulders shook as she gave in to the agonizing sobs that racked her body.

Pulaski stood up and walked from behind her desk. She'd been accused of having a poor bedside manner in the past, and apparently it hadn't improved. But dammit, she had to be sure that Crusher realized the danger in which she'd placed her son by not getting him a complete genetic work-up. Well, apparently she did realize it. Time to calm her down.

"Beverly, I'm sorry," Pulaski said gently, taking the other woman by the arm and steering her back to the chair she'd just vacated. She handed her a tissue. Crusher's sobs were subsiding somewhat, but tears were still falling from her eyes. "I didn't call you all the way back to Earth just to throw accusations in your face." She smiled wryly. "They don't usually let me be the one to give people bad news; I guess my sympathy gene is just the tiniest bit recessive." There, that won a small smile. "We've caught this early enough that it should respond to treatment with no problems. The only hitch I foresee," she continued, taking her seat once more, "is breaking the news to the two of them. I always recommend family counseling when an illness this serious strikes, but I think in this case I may make it mandatory."

Another small smile. "That might be a good idea," Crusher conceded. She wiped her eyes once again and discreetly blew her nose. When she was finished, she squared her shoulders and looked back at the other doctor. "Who do you recommend I tell first?"

"Picard," Pulaski replied promptly. "He has to get over here as quickly as possible so we can begin treatment. I'll send the request out right away. Whether you tell Wesley together or separately, I'll leave up to you. I think you'd be the best judge of how well-or poorly-he'll take it." She rose to her feet and moved toward the door, bringing Crusher along with her. "Why don't I take care of the administrative details, and you go get settled. I haven't told Wesley that you've arrived yet, and I won't tell him until you've had a chance to talk to Jean-Luc. All right?"

Crusher nodded gratefully, thankful that Pulaski was willing to take charge for the moment. Later, she knew, she'd be better able to handle things, but for now, she felt completely drained. A good night's sleep was definitely called for.

If she could manage it.

"I'm here, Doctor, although I must admit I'm puzzled as to why you felt my presence was necessary," Picard said to Pulaski as they stepped into her office the next afternoon. Getting him to come to Earth had been difficult, especially without a good explanation, but she'd managed to bully him into it. "Would you care to give me a few more details now?"

Pulaski shook her head. "No, I would not. But Dr. Crusher would. I'm allowing you two the use of my office as neutral territory." She continued before he could comment on that intriguing-and somewhat alarming-statement. "I know you've just arrived, but I feel this matter really can't wait-and so does Beverly." She touched a button on her desk. "Pulaski to Crusher. He's here, and he's all yours." She smiled, a secretive smile, and walked toward the door, gesturing at one of the chairs facing her desk. "Have a seat, Captain; she'll be here in a moment. If you'll excuse me, I have a few patients to see." She left the room.

Picard looked around with a bemused expression. This entire situation was damned peculiar. At least this time it was purely a medical matter-or so Katherine had assured him when she asked him to come to the Academy. What exactly that medical matter was, he still had no idea. Hopefully Beverly could clear things up for him, whenever she arrived...ah, the door was opening. He rose to his feet. "Dr. Crusher. Would you care to explain what the devil is going on here?" he demanded as soon as the door closed behind her.

She hesitated on the threshold, biting her lower lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Still gnawing on the lip, she moved away from the door, nodding slightly in response to his question. "There's no easy way to tell you," she finally replied, moving to sit in the empty chair next to his. He sat as well, giving her his full attention. She looked down at her tightly clasped hands, then back up at him. Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. "Wesley has Ilar's Syndrome."

Picard frowned. "It's a fairly uncommon genetic disorder, but hardly fatal nowadays," he said cautiously. "I can certainly understand why you had to come to Earth, but why am I here?" Then, as something occurred to him: "I know there are no surviving members of Jack's immediate family on Earth, but weren't there cousins? Do you need help in locating them for the transfusions?"

Crusher closed her eyes and sighed softly, bringing the fingers of one hand up to massage her temple. The hand moved to brush a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, then returned to its original position on her lap. She bit her lip again, then opened her eyes and looked at Picard, her gaze not quite meeting his. He found that slightly disturbing. "No one in Jack's family has Ilar's Syndrome," she stated softly, dropping her gaze to her hands as she waited for his reaction.

His eyebrows arched toward his non-existent hairline. "Beverly," he said cautiously, "what are you trying to tell me?"

"That Jack was not Wesley's biological father," she replied. It wasn't any easier saying those words the second time, but evasiveness was out of the question; she'd tried that once too often in the past, and look where it had landed her.

"I see." Picard leaned back slowly in his chair, looking down at his hands. They'd clenched themselves into fists, he noticed dimly, deliberately loosening them before looking back over at the woman next to him. "Do you require assistance in locating Wesley's father?" he asked, his voice stiff and formal and trying hard not to sound disapproving.

Crusher shook her head, an abrupt, negative motion. "Jean-Luc," she said quietly, "do you remember the Halloween party Pat Fitzgerald gave before the _Stargazer_ went on that mission to Eridani XII?"

A smile tugged briefly at Picard's lips at the memory. "Barely. I don't recall when I've had so much to drink-and no synthehol, then." He frowned. "If I'm not mistaken, that was when you and Jack had separated," he said slowly, suspiciously.

Crusher nodded. "We reconciled a few days later. About nine months after that, Wes was born."

Picard nodded again, although he wore an abstracted expression. "You and Jack weren't at that party," he said. "Everyone knew you were having problems, so we assumed that was why you weren't there." He frowned again. All of this was leading up to something, and he had a feeling he didn't really want to know what it was. Something about that party and the few too many drinks he'd had, a sort of heady feeling of giddy irresponsibility...

Crusher crossed her arms defensively. "Oh, I was there all right. You just didn't recognize me." She raised an eyebrow. "Remember the `mysterious black-haired woman' you took home that night?"

Picard's eyes widened incredulously. "Beverly, are you saying that we-that you and I-?" He couldn't finish, but she was nodding confirmation of that impossibility, running agitated fingers through her hair before rising to pace along the length of the office.

"I've tried twice to tell you about it," she admitted painfully. "Once when we were held hostage-do you remember, I said I had something to tell you?" He nodded, still unable to speak. "The second time was when I was stuck in that warp bubble Wesley accidentally created, when I thought everyone around me was simply vanishing and I was the only person who remembered them. You and I were the last two left. I tried to tell you about it then, but you disappeared before I could say anything."

"But why? Why did it happen?" Picard asked in bewilderment. "And why me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't think you realize how angry I was with Jack," Crusher confessed. "All I could think was that I'd made the biggest mistake of my life when I married him. I wanted to hurt him, the way he'd hurt me-" Oops. She'd given away more than she meant to with that sentence, more than enough for Picard to come up with some conclusions. Better to tell him the entire story, than leave him wondering. "Jack said it was all a misunderstanding," she began wearily...

* * *

_A/N: Here is my first and so far only take on two subjects: What if Picard was Wesley's father, and what in the world was Beverly always about to tell Picard before they were interrupted? Yes, it's not very logical and I can drive a space ship through the plot holes, but what the heck. It's old, I was young, put your own excuse here. There are two more parts coming up before the story's all told. R&R if you like!_


	2. What's Past

Beverly Crusher came home early from the hospital that day. Two voices were raised in argument, two voices she knew quite well: her husband and her friend, Vraina Londo. It was obvious they hadn't heard her come in. Beverly hesitated on the doorstep, uncertain as to whether she should make her presence known or leave and let the two of them thrash it out. Whatever "it" was, this time. Their relationship had always been based on good-natured ribbing and name-calling, but the arguing she was hearing now sounded far from friendly; apparently things had gotten out of hand.

While she hesitated, the voices grew louder. "Jack Crusher, I have been waiting for six months for you to dump her! When are you going to do it? You promised!"

Beverly froze at those words. Vraina paced back and forth angrily in the living room, moving in and out of Beverly's sight. She couldn't see Jack, but he wasn't the type to pace. The fact that he'd even raised his voice was an indication of just how upset he was.

"Vraina, we've been over this. I can't just dump her. It would hurt her terribly. You have to let me break it to her gently. This isn't the sort of thing you just terminate overnight-"

"You've been saying that for six months, Jackie-boy," Vraina snapped sarcastically. "And saying it, and saying it. How gentle do you have to be? She's a big girl, she can handle it. If you don't do it," she added threateningly, "I will!"

There was complete silence for a moment, then Jack said something in a low voice that Beverly couldn't quite make out. Vraina's response was a contemptuous snort. She moved back into Beverly's range of vision as she stormed unexpectedly toward the living room entrance. "Come on, Jack, I won't wait forever-" she snarled, then stopped abruptly, her face flushing, as she saw Beverly standing in the doorway. "Bev! What are you doing home so early?"

Beverly shook her head slowly, disbelievingly, moving her gaze from Vraina to Jack, as he heard the other woman's words and came running to the front hall, a guilty expression on his face. "I don't believe this," Beverly said numbly. Jack was trying to say something, but she didn't hear him as she stumbled backwards, out the door, finally turning and running down the street, back to the transporter station she'd just left.

"Jack tried to follow me," Crusher continued softly. She was prowling around the perimeter of the office, looking everywhere except at Jean-Luc Picard, who was still sitting stiffly in front of Pulaski's desk, too stunned to move. "I heard him calling me, but I just kept going. I was too upset to listen to him. I wound up at my friend Sandi's house later that evening, told her everything, and asked her if I could stay there while I put in for a separation."

"I never knew the full story," Picard said. He was trying to keep his voice carefully neutral, but Crusher could hear the unsteadiness that told her how upset he really was. Deservedly so, she reminded herself. She was lucky he was taking it as well as he apparently was. "Jack merely said that you were having problems, and I certainly felt no need to press him for details. Apparently," he added bitterly, "that was an error on my part."

Crusher winced as that shot hit home, then continued speaking, determined to finish it as quickly as possible. "I know what I heard was circumstantial, but it sounded very much like a lover's quarrel to me, that Vraina was pushing Jack to get rid of me. So I put in for a separation and termination of our marriage contract as quickly as possible. I refused to so much as speak to either of them the entire month before Pat's party. I never would have gone," she added, "if Sandi hadn't talked me into it. She said it would do me some good to stop hiding out." Her lips twisted wryly. "So I decided to hell with Jack Crusher; I was going to have a good time, to prove to him and myself that I didn't need him. But I compromised on the `hiding out' bit; I wore a costume that practically guaranteed no one would recognize me, and I swore Sandi to secrecy. I hate to admit it, but by the time you showed up, I was, to borrow an old phrase, 'sloshed to the gills'."

Picard grimaced. "I was already rather inebriated myself; I had run into John Dzialo-my first roommate from the Academy, of all people-earlier that evening and we went to more than one bar together, reliving old times. Which is why I hardly remember anything that happened that night."

Crusher stopped by the window, staring unseeingly at the skyline. "When you showed up, something just...clicked. I have always felt a...certain attraction to you," she confessed, her eyes still firmly fixed on an invisible spot on the horizon. "And you were Jack's commanding officer, his friend. I thought he'd been sleeping with my friend; somehow, it seemed...eminently logical that I sleep with you." She looked over at him, then turned away in shame. "I used you. I knew you didn't recognize me, that you were intrigued by me. I took advantage of that attraction. The next day, when I woke up, I felt so...ashamed. Which is why I just slipped away. I held my breath for a week, waiting for you to confront me, to say something. But you never did."

"I cannot believe I didn't recognize you," Picard murmured. "All I remember is waking up with the worst hangover I'd had since graduating from the Academy." Another grimace stretched his lips. "John was rather good at helping me wake up with those." His voice hardened. "What happened next?"

"At the end of the week, when it became obvious to me that you had no idea who you'd taken home, I finally contacted Jack," the doctor continued her story. "We sat down and had a long talk-about the fact that Vraina was supposed to take over the management of some property Jack's family owned in Arizona. The woman running the place was a complete incompetent, but she was his cousin, and he was reluctant to fire her." She smiled briefly. "Jack had a strong sense of family, not always to his advantage. Vraina wanted the job so she could be close to her own relatives. Jack had asked her not to talk about it until he had all the details set." Another tiny smile. "He was worried that I'd be upset about Vraina leaving, since we were so close. When Jack told me this-and Vraina confirmed it, after yelling at me for not letting her explain-I felt like a complete idiot. Jack had done absolutely nothing, but I had gone off half-cocked and almost destroyed our marriage because I wasn't willing to listen to him."

"You never told him about our...indiscretion?" Picard asked delicately.

Crusher shook her head. "No. I was too ashamed of myself. If you'd realized who I was, well, things probably would have turned out differently. At the time, I just figured that if you didn't know it was me, there was no point in telling you. That there was no harm done." She paused. "Until I found out I was pregnant."

"Why didn't you say something then?" Picard asked, his voice harsh with suppressed emotion.

"I never told you because I never knew, not for sure, not until Katherine told me that Wesley had Ilar's Syndrome," Crusher snapped, whirling to face him. Her cheeks were flushed with a mixture of anger and shame. "As far as I was concerned-and I'm not excusing myself, because I know how foolishly I acted-Jack was the father. It was what I wanted to believe, and trust me," she added in a low voice, "it's not very difficult to delude yourself when you want to."

Picard rose from his chair angrily. "I still cannot believe you never confirmed the identity of Wesley's father," he ground out. "Don't you think I had a right to know that I had a son?"

Crusher shook her head slowly, deliberately. "No," she replied. He blinked in surprise at the passionate implacability in her voice. "As far as I was concerned, Jack was Wesley's father, and not just in a genetic sense. He was the one I wanted to raise Wes. I knew that he would be a father, whereas you would always be a Starfleet Officer, first and foremost. As you've proven, more than once," she added coolly. "Can you honestly say you have any problems with the way I've raised him? With the way he's turned out? Occasional lapses notwithstanding," she added bitterly as she glanced out at the neatly manicured lawns of the Academy.

Picard shook his head wryly, half in response to her questions and half at himself. His anger was somewhat diffused by her honesty, however wounding it might be. Beverly was once again proving that she knew him all too well. "I'm still not convinced by your reasoning," he said, concentrating on the subject at hand. The very touchy subject at hand.

"I could very easily fall in love with you, Jean-Luc," Crusher replied unexpectedly, not caring how he reacted. She had held all these feelings and suspicions and fears inside her for so long; now that she was finally able to confront them, she found it impossible to keep them dammed up a minute longer. "Did you know that? In fact, I was damned close to falling in love with you before I married Jack. But your ship comes first in your life; you have always made that quite clear, even then. You were always so single-minded that I knew I never had a chance." She laughed abruptly, a semi-hysterical sound she cut off almost as it left her throat. "I had no idea how you felt about me; you were always so formal!"

"You were Jack's fiancé, and then Jack's wife," Picard replied simply. "My feelings toward you were...irrelevant."

Crusher nodded her understanding, the hysteria in her eyes subsiding slightly as she caught the wistfulness in his voice he tried unsuccessfully to repress. "So were mine, but they still existed," she replied with an equal note of wistfulness. "When the opportunity arose to act on those feelings, and to act in such a way that I believed there would be no repercussions, I took it. Yes, it was wrong, and yes, I regret that I could have been so incredibly selfish, but no, I don't regret the fact that Jack was Wesley's father, even if he wasn't." She stopped in confusion, not certain if Picard caught the meaning behind that incoherent statement. "Even though Jack went off into space with you, his heart was home, with us," she continued in a quieter tone. "With me and Wesley. If I asked him to take a planetside posting, he would have done it. Even if it broke his heart, he would have done it, and I never would have heard a word of complaint. Would you have been able to do that? Would you have been willing to?"

"That is an impossible question to answer, since I was never granted the opportunity to make such a decision," Picard replied, his voice as soft as hers. "My only response can be, I don't know." He walked forward, one step, then two, until he was standing directly in front of her. "That, however, is a question for the past. What do we do about it now?"

Crusher was the first to drop her eyes as she stepped away and resumed her nervous pacing around the edge of the room. "Katherine recommended family counseling, and I think it's a good idea," she replied, apparently to the potted plant she'd stopped in front of. "I don't know how you feel about continuing to serve on the same ship with me, but if we do, then I have the feeling we'll be spending a lot of time with Deanna Troi."

Picard shrugged in a non-committal manner. "We'll deal with that when we've both had time to calm down," he said. "But the question still remains: what do we do now?"

"I think the first thing we should do is tell Wesley," Crusher replied firmly. "There's no sense in putting it off any longer." She glanced over her shoulder at Picard, her eyes meeting his steadily for the first time that day. They acknowledged that this conversation was far from over.

Picard nodded. "Agreed," he said firmly, squaring his shoulders as if going into battle.

Which, Crusher realized, was not an inappropriate way of putting it. Wesley was not going to be happy.

"I don't believe you," Wesley said flatly, turning to face the window.

His mother glanced helplessly at Picard, who was still standing by the door, then straightened her shoulders and walked over to stand behind her son. She put one hand on his shoulder and tugged him around to face her. He continued to look stubbornly down at the floor until she placed a hand under his chin and gently but firmly forced his head up. Slowly, reluctantly, he brought his eyes to meet hers. "Wes, I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but it's the truth. So you'd better start dealing with it." Her own eyes were haunted as she added: "I think there's been too much denial already."

Wesley's eyes flashed over to meet Picard's resentfully. He shrugged his shoulder out of his mother's grasp, but didn't turn away again. She could see the struggle in his eyes; he was torn between the knowledge that his mother wouldn't lie to him about a thing like this and the need to deny its truth. To deny so much as the possibility of its truth.

In the end, it was a truth that would not be denied. His shoulders sagged and his eyes closed as he accepted it. "How?" he asked after a long, silent moment.

Crusher placed her hand on his shoulder again, pulling it away almost immediately in her own uncertainty. "Wes, why don't we all sit down and talk about it," she said quietly, suiting action to word by moving over to the small table that had been set up in his hospital room. Picard joined her there and, after another long moment, so did Wesley.

It wasn't going to be easy for any of them, but Crusher had confidence in both Jean-Luc and Wesley's ability to come to terms with the situation. She was a little less certain about how they would come to terms with her duplicity, but hoped that the counselor she'd spoken to that morning was right: that it was just a matter of taking things one step at a time.

It would be a long and difficult journey, but not an impossible one. Keeping that thought firmly in mind, she began to speak. "I know you're wondering how this happened-"

"You're damn right I am!" Wesley exploded. "I mean, this isn't exactly what I expected when you two walked into the room. I'm sick because I have some disease I never heard of, one that you can only get from your father's side of the family, and you're telling me that it's because Dad wasn't my father, Captain Picard is? I'm wondering a lot of things right now, Mom, and that's definitely number one on the list."

Picard half-rose at Wesley's words, looking as if he wanted to say something-about not speaking to his mother like that, Beverly supposed, or not speaking to superior officers in such a tone. But this was a personal matter, not a Starfleet matter, and the warning glance she shot him was enough to remind him of that. His mouth tightened slightly in response to her look, and he lowered himself back from the edge of his seat as the doctor turned to face her son.

Before she could speak, Wesley turned his glare back to her. "How long has _he_ known?" he spat out, jerking a shoulder in Picard's direction.

The captain stiffened but didn't say anything. Nor did he have any intention of saying anything; the only reason he was here at all was because he refused to make Beverly to do this on her own. No matter that he still felt the sting of betrayal against her for holding such a secret from not only himself but from Jack; it was still something they both had to take responsibility for. He wasn't going to hide behind the fact of his ignorance to excuse himself from what he knew was going to be a very painful experience for all of them. However, now wasn't the time for him to say anything to Wesley; how Beverly chose to tell her son and exactly what she chose to tell him would be completely up to her. Picard hadn't been sure how she would react to his insistence on being there when she told Wesley, but the look of gratitude she'd flashed him had been more than enough to tell him he'd done the right thing.

"It's not a pretty story, Wesley, and I understand your anger. In fact," Crusher continued, "I expect you to become a lot angrier with me before this is all over. But I want you to understand one thing." She leaned forward slightly and tapped on the edge of the table with one finger. "Captain Picard did not know until I told him this morning."

Wesley nodded and tucked his hands under his armpits in a highly defensive motion. "Okay, fine, he didn't know. Why not? How could he not know?"

"Because I took great pains to keep my identity from him that night," Crusher replied, enunciating each word carefully. Now was not the time for any misunderstandings. "And that, to answer your next question, was the first and only time we were...together." _And probably the last time,_ she found herself thinking regretfully. If there had ever been any chance for the two of them, she'd blown it that night and every night afterwards, when she'd continued to keep her guilty secret to herself. She suspected that was why she never could bring herself to confess to Picard until she was forced to; if she never told him, then perhaps the two of them could form a relationship, could explore their feelings and see how far their friendship could go. Just another regret to add to the pile, she told herself. Another "might have been."

"Tell me about it." The words were flat, emotionless, but Crusher could see what an effort it was for her son to maintain his composure now. It seemed to help, that Picard had been as in the dark as he had, and that was the only thing Crusher felt glad about now.

She nodded and pressed her hands flat against the table in an effort to keep them from twisting nervously, a habit she though she'd lost long ago. Until today. "I thought your father was having an affair with my best friend, that he was planning on leaving me for her," she began. Some small part of her whispered, _third time's the charm_, while the rest of her concentrated on Wesley and his reaction to her story.

He wasn't happy. But then, she didn't really expect him to be. He might not ever be happy with her again, she realized as she finished. He hadn't interrupted, not once, and she'd half-expected him to. Once or twice his gaze had shifted toward the captain, but always his eyes had returned to her own, and she made it a point never to lower her gaze. It was an effort, especially when she told Wesley under what circumstances he was conceived, but she did it, and actually felt better for it.

There was, as expected, a long, awkward moment of silence while Wesley digested what he'd just been told. His first words were almost mundane: "Birth control?"

His mother nodded. "Yes, but I didn't realize that it was time to renew my contraceptive implant until it was too late."

There was a long silence after those words, and Crusher stole a look at Picard. He had been as silent as her son, but she could tell it wasn't any easier for him to hear it again than it had been the first time. But she was grateful to him for his presence. The counselor, Dr. Bell, had recommended that both of them be present when Beverly broke the news to Wesley, even if Picard said nothing. He felt that forcing Wesley to be in the same room with the captain would also keep him from being able to reject his mother's story, from denying the truth. Picard's physical presence would reinforce Crusher's words. It wouldn't make it any easier, the doctor had warned, but it would help keep all three on track. That and Picard's own willingness to support her had made the decision that much easier to make.

"So that's it." Wesley didn't look any happier than when she first started speaking, but that, unfortunately, was to be expected. "It was a misunderstanding. Just a stupid mistake."

Crusher nodded unhappily. "I'm not proud of what happened, Wes. And I don't expect forgiveness or even understanding, because, quite frankly, I don't think I've ever understood or forgiven myself. You should have been told the truth a long time ago-all of you. All I can say is that I am truly sorry."

Wesley shook his head. "No, I mean_ I_ was just a mistake."

Beverly felt her breath catch in her throat as she realized what her son was saying. "Oh no, Wesley, never that. I regret quite a lot about this whole situation, but I have never even once regretted you. Not then, and not now."

"Nor do I." Beverly and Wesley turned startled eyes upon Picard as he spoke. Even though he'd promised himself he wouldn't say anything, this question of Wesley's was far too important for him not to address it. He wasn't sure how the young man would interpret his words, how he would take them, but Picard knew he had to let Wesley know how he felt. "Wesley, I know I don't really have any right to say anything to you about this," Picard began. "But I must say at least one thing. No matter the circumstances of your birth or parentage, the young man that was conceived that night was one that any father would be proud of. Jack Crusher was your father in every way that counts, including the fact that your mother made a conscious decision to name him as your father, and I know he would have been just as proud of the way you turned out as your mother and I are. Maybe even more." He took a deep breath before finishing. "Your mother made some very painful decisions, and I'm not defending her actions, but I can understand her reasoning behind allowing us all to think that Jack was your biological father."

"I agree with everything Jean-Luc just said," Crusher stated, trying not to feel too hopeful at the fact the captain's words seemed to have diffused some of Wesley's anger; her son no longer looked quite as hurt and angry as he had when she first broke the news to him. "And I think he's absolutely right about the way your father would feel. Even under these circumstances," she felt compelled to add.

Another long silence fell until Picard rose to his feet, tugging on the bottom of his tunic from force of habit. "I think perhaps we should give Wesley a little time to assimilate what we've just told him." He allowed himself to look at the young man on the opposite side of the table, a young man looking particularly vulnerable at the moment. "Dr. Pulaski wants to begin the treatment right away, tomorrow if we can manage it. And I think Wesley-that is, we all need to rest."

Crusher nodded and came reluctantly to her feet. "I suppose you're right. Would you like-would it be all right if I stopped by in the morning, Wesley? Before Dr. Pulaski gets here?"

He nodded without looking up. "Sure. I'll be here."

Wesley could tell his mother wasn't sure if she could kiss him good-bye or not, so he stood up and leaned over to spare her the indecision. "I'll see you at breakfast," he said as he kissed her cheek. She flashed him a cautiously grateful look as she squeezed his shoulder and turned to leave, passing through the door Picard was holding open without looking back.

As soon as they were gone Wesley flung himself on his bed and took a deep, shuddering breath. It felt as if his entire world had spun out of orbit, and he didn't know where to begin to try and put things in perspective. Mom had seen the Academy shrink; maybe he should, too. Because there didn't seem to be any real way to put this situation in perspective, not without help. "Captain Picard is my father." He tried saying it out loud, but it still didn't feel real. "Wesley James Picard." Nope, that sounded even worse. "Whoever is out there messing up my life, I wish You'd stop," he said to the ceiling as he rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his arms.

There was a knock at the door. Startled, Wesley came to his feet. "Come in."


	3. Future Imperfect

It wasn't his mother or the captain; it wasn't even Dr. Pulaski or one of the endless parade of nurses that seemed to traipse in and out of his room whenever they felt like it. It was Boothby, and Wesley couldn't have been more surprised if Jack Crusher himself had walked in. "Boothby! What are you doing here?"

The old man winked and grabbed one of the chairs, swinging it over by the edge of Wesley's bed and taking a seat. "I heard you were in here, thought you might like some company for a while." He paused. "I saw your mother and the captain leaving, so I figured you weren't too sick for visitors."

"Yeah, well, if it wasn't for them I wouldn't even be sick." The words were out before Wesley could stop them, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. Boothby might not hold any degrees in counseling, but as far as Wesley was concerned, he was the next best thing. Maybe even better.

Boothby's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Those are some mighty harsh words, son. Want to talk about it?"

Wesley nodded and sat back on the edge of the bed, hunching his shoulders defensively. "Yeah, I guess I do," he mumbled. "What do you do when you find out that your whole life's been nothing but a lie?"

Boothby nodded sagely. "Sounds pretty grim, young man, pretty grim indeed. I suppose you plan on elaborating on that question? Unless, of course, it was purely hypothetical?"

"I wish it was," Wesley replied with a grimace. "You don't know how much I wish that. But it's not." The words poured out of him, unstoppable, until the entire story was told. "I don't know what to do," he concluded. "I don't know what to say or how to react. I mean, I can't start calling the captain Dad, you know?" Boothby nodded as Wesley rolled off the bed and wandered around the edges of the room, stopping only to stare moodily-and unseeingly-out the window. "And Mom-wow! This is something I never would have expected her to do. She's usually so up front about everything, always letting me know about things, no matter how painful or scary it might be." He paused, uncertain if he should voice his biggest fear, then shrugged. Boothby was hardly going to run to his mother and tell her whatever Wesley told him, and even if he did, it wasn't anything Wesley wouldn't tell her himself. Eventually.

"You look like you have something more to say," Boothby interjected encouragingly.

That did it. "Yeah, I do," Wesley replied, his voice quiet as he stared down at his hands. "I guess I'm just wondering if I can still trust my mom; this is an awfully big secret to keep from me. Not just from me, but from my father and Captain Picard. I mean," he corrected himself, "from Jack Crusher and my father-no, that's not right either." Wesley's voice was filled with frustration. "It's a big secret to keep from the three of us. Whoever we are," he concluded.

Boothby nodded, pursing his lips consideringly. "That it is, boy, that it is. You go along, thinking you know who you are and where you come from, and wham!" He smacked his hands together sharply. "Everything turns upside down and you don't know what to believe any more."

Wesley nodded. "That's exactly it. I'm not who I always thought I was, and my mom-" He blew out his breath and ran agitated fingers through his hair, suddenly uncertain what he wanted to say.

Boothby, however, had no such problems. "So you feel as if your mother isn't who you thought she was, and you aren't who you thought you were." Wesley nodded, but before he could say anything, the older man continued speaking. "Well, that's understandable up to a point. But consider this: if you hadn't become ill, and your mother hadn't been forced to tell you what happened, who would you be then?"

Wesley frowned. "I'm not sure I follow you," he admitted.

"Think about it this way," Boothby explained. "Does this knowledge change anything about your life, the way you've lived it or the way you plan on living it? Does it make you any different this morning than you were yesterday? In the important ways," he added sharply, cutting off the objection he could Wesley was about to object. "I'm not talking genetically, either. All I'm asking is, does this knowledge change who Wesley Crusher is, or just how he got here?"

Wesley's frown had only deepened as Boothby continued. "Maybe, but I'll never be able to find out, will I?" he burst out when the old man fell silent. "I just never thought Mom would be the type to keep a secret like this!"

"Of course, some secrets are harder to share than others, if you catch my meaning," Boothby offered, his voice innocent but his eyes carefully watching for Wesley's reaction.

"I'm not sure I do," Wesley replied with a questioning frown. Boothby had been the first person Captain Picard had told him to look up when he entered the Academy, and one who had proven to be as valuable a listener as Guinan and as valuable an advisor as the captain himself. What was he saying now? And was it something Wesley wanted to hear?

Boothby leaned back comfortably in the chair, arms folded across his chest, and put one foot up against the edge of the bed. "I think you do," he countered, holding Wesley's gaze with his own until the younger man turned away, ducking his head in a half-embarrassed motion.

"That was different," Wesley protested. "I was trying to protect my friends." It sounded weak in his own ears, and he knew it must sound doubly so to Boothby.

Apparently so. There was a touch of scorn in the old man's voice when he spoke again, an edge that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Wasn't your mother trying to do the same thing?"

"I guess," Wesley conceded. "But it still doesn't seem like her," was his next objection. "I mean, not to hide it for so long-!"

"Maybe it isn't like her," Boothby offered with a slight smile, the scorn vanished as if it had never been.

"What do you mean?" Wesley asked, caught off guard. Of all the possible responses Boothby could have given, agreement wasn't one of them.

The gardener shrugged. "Just what I said. Maybe it isn't like her, not like her now. And maybe this is the reason it isn't like her now. I think you of all people can appreciate that what we do-_or have done_," he emphasized, "isn't always who we are."

"You mean, maybe she's always been so honest and tells me everything because of this one thing she never told anyone?" Wesley asked. Boothby nodded, and Wesley walked back over to sit at the table with a thoughtful expression on his face. "To sort of make up for it?"

"It's the sort of thing that can shape a person's entire future," Boothby suggested. "A trauma like that has far-reaching consequences. Not only for the person keeping the secret, but for everyone else involved. I'm not saying you don't have a right to be upset about this," he added, "because you do. I'm sure your mother expects you to be. But everyone makes mistakes, and mistakes have consequences. Consequences for others besides the person making the mistake."

"That's the truth," Wesley muttered. His own recent "mistake" had a high price indeed-his own integrity had been on the line, and his friend's life had been lost. He'd been able to rectify the mistake, but only after a certain amount of prodding from Captain Picard. No one had known anything about his mother's mistake, so she hadn't had anyone she could turn to when her own conscience failed her. There wasn't even a single clue to suggest that she'd been hiding so volatile a secret close to her heart, not until now. If Picard hadn't been there to push Wesley into doing the right thing... Wesley shuddered. If Picard hadn't convinced him to tell the truth, his mother wouldn't have been the only Crusher with a guilty secret to haunt them for the rest of their life. "Thanks, Boothby."

Boothby looked surprised. "For what?"

It was Wesley's turn to smile. "For making me think."

The old gardener nodded as he came to his feet. "That's what you're here for, boy. To think. Anything I can do to help is all part of the service." He turned and walked toward the door as if to leave, but stopped when Wesley hesitantly touched his shoulder. Wordlessly, he held out his hand to the older man, who shook it firmly, then patted the boy on the shoulder and left the room without another word.

"-so we should be coming back to the ship in a few days." There was a knock at her door, and Beverly Crusher paused in the middle of her message to Dr. Selar, startled. "Crusher out," she finished, pressing the computer pad to send the message before coming to her feet and facing the door. "Come in," she called. Who in the world could be coming to see her so late? Unless something had happened; perhaps Wesley's illness had taken an unexpected turn for the worse-

Her fears were calmed by the sight of her son at the door, although it did nothing for her tension level. "Wesley! Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

He slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. "Yeah, I am, but I had a lot on my mind, so I decided to take a chance on you being awake. I had a feeling you might not be asleep yet, either."

Crusher shrugged. "I had to contact Dr. Selar and let her know when to expect the captain and I back on the ship," she explained, knowing even as she spoke how poor an excuse it was.

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Wesley said, jumping right into it. He took a deep breath. "Do you think Captain Picard would feel upset if I didn't start calling him dad just yet?" He tried for a light note, and almost succeeded, if the startled whisper of a smile that crossed his mother's face was any indication.

"Oh, I don't think he'd mind if we waited on that sort of thing," she replied, her voice trying for the same lightness-and failing miserably as the final words trembled with the tears she'd been holding back all afternoon. "Wesley, I'm so sorry this happened, that you found out this way-"

"So am I, but that's the way it happened, so I guess we have to deal with it," Wesley said. He took a step forward, holding out his arms awkwardly. "How about a hug?"

Crusher smiled as she embraced her son. "I was afraid it would be a long time before I got one of these from you," she whispered. "You seemed so angry with me." She pulled back to study his face, her forehead creasing with a slight frown. "Did something happen?"

Wesley shrugged and half-smiled. "Well, let's just say someone reminded me that we all make mistakes, and we definitely make mistakes we'd rather no one ever found out about. But life doesn't always let us get away with things, and the best way to handle them is head on." The grin widened a bit, although it was still forlorn. "After all, I'm still me, right?"

"Wise words," Crusher murmured. "I'm just glad that you were willing to consider them so soon."

"I'm still pretty upset," Wesley agreed as his mother finally, reluctantly, released him and moved to sit back in the room's single chair, "but I think the best thing for us to do right now is talk. Are you up for that?"

Crusher nodded. "I wasn't, not for a long time, but now, I guess I finally am."

They talked for most of the night; Wesley wondered, once, why no one had come to look for him, then dismissed the thought as inconsequential. The important thing was that he not allow this revelation of his mother's destroy their relationship; they were both on very shaky ground right now, and the only way through it was to talk to each other. Then, of course, there would be the inevitable confrontation with Captain Picard-which would no doubt be worse for his mother than for him-but he shook that thought away as well. Captain Picard-his father-would have to wait, at least until the morning. But no longer than that; Wesley found himself suddenly very unwilling to let things go for too long. After all, you never knew what kind of a problem a delay could cause.

Wesley James Crusher-he could never think of himself by any other name, that much was for sure-gave his mother his full and undivided attention. They had a long road to walk, but it helped to know that neither of them would have to walk it alone.

**Epilogue**

Dr. Katherine Pulaski walked noiselessly down the hallway that lead to the guest quarters attached to the Academy sickbay. Most of the rooms were empty; there were thankfully few patients at the moment, which meant even fewer friends and relatives staying here. In fact, there were only two rooms occupied right now; one for Jean-Luc Picard, and one for Beverly Crusher.

It was the latter's room she was headed for right now. She'd seen the tension in the other woman's face when she and the captain left Wesley's hospital room earlier, and had a feeling Beverly might need someone to talk to about now. Picard would probably be a better choice were he not quite so close to the situation, she thought wryly as she approached the next corner, the one leading to the actual corridor where the doctor and the captain were located. Close to each other, but not too close; Pulaski considered herself diplomatic enough to appreciate the delicacy of their situation, but she also felt she knew them well enough to guess that they might need a certain amount of physical closeness-at least as far as rooms were concerned. The ironic thought drifter through her mind that physical closeness had been the starting point of this whole mess, but she certainly wasn't going to give anyone else the opportunity to appreciate that irony. Especially not the parties concerned.

At any rate, she hoped that she could be of some help right now. Beverly Crusher was a woman who was not feeling very good about herself right now, and it might do her a world of good just to have someone to talk to. Someone removed from the situation, but at the same time someone who knew all the parties involved, at least more than the Academy counselor, Dr. Bell. Someone objective, but not too objective. Pulaski considered herself to more than fit that description.

She turned the corner and was about to continue down the hall when a slight movement caught her eye. She came to a stop with a raised eyebrow as she recognized Wesley Crusher standing by the door to his mother's room. He appeared to be making up his mind about something, and she managed to catch herself before she called out to him to get back in bed. As she stepped back into the shadows, she nodded her approval as he reached out to knock on the door. She continued to wait until he went into the room, then turned around and headed back the way she'd just come, stopping only when she reached a communications relay to call for the night nurse.

"This is Lt. Ostrom, Doctor; is there a problem?"

"No problem, Sue," Pulaski responded, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in her voice. Let the other woman make of it what she wanted. "I just thought I'd let you know that I've allowed Cadet Crusher to remain in his mother's quarters for the night. Just make sure he receives his medication first thing in the morning."

"Very well, Doctor." A slight pause, then: "Weren't you supposed to go off-duty an hour ago?"

Pulaski smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'm going right now. See you in the morning."

"See you-but not too early, I hope. Ostrom out." With that parting shot, the communicator went dead, and Pulaski shook her head, this time with no small amount of amusement on her own account. "My staff knows me a little too well," she muttered before turning and heading toward her quarters.

If anyone saw Dr. Pulaski grinning and humming happily to herself as she walked down the corridor to her quarters, they were careful not to mention the doctor's unusually good mood at the end of a long day, especially a long day before she performed surgery. Anyone who saw this simply chalked it up to unexplained phenomena and put it out of their minds.

It was the safest thing to do.

* * *

_A/N: Thus endeth this piece of angsty fluff from my past. I never wrote a continuation or a sequel, although if I ever get caught up on the stories I'm currently in the middle of, and if anyone wants, I might consider doing so. Hope you enjoyed!_


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